


From The Middle To The Edge

by brennivin



Series: Courier Juliette [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Sexual Situations, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Baggage, F/F, Hospitalization, M/M, Multi, Rape, Revenge, Road Trips, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, except like... to do with killing people?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: A story about mojave bounty hunter Jimmy Ghadames, and his endeavour to kill the infamous fiend leader Cook-Cook.(it's my 50th fic ever and it's gonna be a wild one... another one of those emotional rollercoasters. oops.)





	1. You would, you could, you should.

He had strolled into Novac like an old world alley cat, the file tucked under his arm stamped with an unmistakeable two-headed bear.

It was a lucky break for a bounty hunter to be hired by the NCR. It wasn’t often that they put out bounties but they paid handsomely when they did.

Instead of heading straight for his prize, though, Jimmy Ghadames had other plans first. First he needed a travelling partner.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t take on his target alone, of course, but he’d grown tired of walking the roads all by his lonesome. He was a human being in need of companionship, and in such a dangerous line of work a companion could go a long way.

He didn’t like to admit it, but he wasn’t a great shot either. He could handle a blade no problem, and he knew exactly how to handle himself in a fistfight all up close and personal. It was firearms that didn’t agree with him. He’d never been able to aim well with any gun he’d attempted to wield and had almost gotten himself killed a few times with his inability to attack from long range. Someone who could handle a ranged weapon would be preferable, although beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Except in this case begging wouldn’t be necessary.

“Who’s up there in that big ‘ole dinosaur mouth?”

“Oh, uh. That’ll be our guard, Craig Boone. He keeps watch at night since everyone is resting. He was a sniper for the NCR’s First Recon once, you know.”

Jimmy whistled, impressed. “Can I go talk to him?”

The old man shrugged. “Sure.”

He reached out before Jimmy could get up the stairs. “Wait, wait – are you interested in anything I’ve got to sell?”

“Like what?”

“Well… I’ve got dinosaur figurines, and a lot of them.”

__

  
  


“What do you mean you’ve already got a companion?”

Boone wrinkled his nose, eyes hidden by his sunglasses. “What do you think I mean? It means what it means. I’ve been travelling with this courier, you know. We’re out for Legion blood, she and I.”

“Oh, how romantic.” He made a face like he was fixing to vomit.

“Shut your hole, kid.”

This time Jimmy was the one to wrinkle his nose. “I’m not that good with ages but I stand to guess you’re younger than me.”

“Says the one who actually bought those goofy dinosaur toys.”

He hugged the three plastic tyrannosaurus figurines to his chest. ”Don’t you listen to him, fellas. We can’t travel with a scrooge like that… Some people are born old men. So Boone, Anyone else I could ask?”

Boone looked down his nose at the peculiar man, clad in an armoured vault suit. His hair was a fiery colour and he was built pretty sturdy. He snorted. “I’m gonna ignore the fact you just talked to the dinosaurs. Tell ya what; ask Manny. He’s got a room on the ground floor.”

“Manny, huh? Guess me n’ the boys’ll be on our merry way, sir.” He saluted with mock patriotism.

“You could have spent those caps on… food. Do you know how many are starving out in this wasteland?”

He turned to open the door. “Doesn’t matter how I spend my caps. I’m gonna be rich after this hit.”

The sniper scoffed and turned to continue his guard work.

  
  


__

  
  


“And why should I travel with you?” Manny squinted at the man, dressed up for bed and still not fully awake. Was the guy carrying dinosaur toys in his arms?

Jimmy waved the file at him, and he instantly recognised the stamp on the corner.

“Orders from the NCR military? What’s a guy like you doing with a file like this?”

He simply smiled. “If I tell ya more then you’ve gotta consider my offer. I’m obviously inviting you to take a cut of the profits.”

He squinted harder, examining the strange man for any signs of dishonesty. As far as he could tell the guy was just an idiot – that or his confidence came from somewhere else.

“Okay, okay. Get your ass inside.” He pointed towards the man’s boots. “But wipe those off, will ya? They’re filthy.”

Jimmy obliged, scraping some dirt off his shoes on the welcome mat before coming inside.

It was a humble little apartment, with a couple of old but relatively clean mattresses on the floor to sleep on. It certainly beat desert campsites.

“So Manny, let me break this down for ya.” He threw the file open on the coffee table, letting Manny see the contents. “This motherfucker is a fiend, and he’s been causin’ some major issues for the NCR up near Vegas. I’ve gotta whack the prick.”

He scanned the page, nodding at Jimmy’s words. “Cook-Cook? What a name… Sounds like a fiend alright. You want something to drink?”

“Depends. Got Nuka-cola?”

He fetched a bottle and Jimmy grinned, accepting it with a nod of thanks. Manny watched him open the bottle take a swig.

“Just look right there at how much is on his head.” He muttered, flipping the page to reveal the amount.

Manny stared at the number for a moment. “That’s a decent few zeroes there, friend. NCR money doesn’t exchange well but with this amount it won’t matter.”

“Just what I was thinkin’. I just had to take the job.” He threw back his head and took a few large gulps of flat, warm soda.

“What’s my cut like?”

“Oh, it’s juicy. Trust me. You willin’ to pack up and join me?”

He stared for a moment. “You do drive a hard bargain. I’ll be honest, since Craig and Juliette cleared out those ghouls and retook Nelson, there’s not been much to defend the town from during the day. The past week I’ve been sittin’ up in that dinosaur’s mouth twiddling my thumbs.”

A wicked little smile tugged at Jimmy’s lips. “What you need is a target to fire at, right?” He gestured towards the veteran’s rifle.

Manny tipped an eyebrow at him. “Maybe. I’m pretty sure there’s several things I need right now, and I feel like sitting around here isn’t one of ‘em.”

Jimmy finished his drink.

“Besides, if he can take off and leave me all alone here then I can do it too. God, he’s been so weird since he met that wife of his… even weirder now she’s gone.” His brow was knitted with frustration, and Jimmy wasn’t able to figure out why.

“You and this Boone guy… you got some kinda story?”

“Well, we served together. We were close. Not anymore though. I didn’t get along with her and he always took her side. It was like the moment he had a chick I was nothing to him.”

Jimmy giggled. “A lotta people are like that, I think.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

Jimmy sauntered closer to him, and he instinctively stepped back before eventually letting him get closer.

“Seems like you’ve been alone a while, eh? Me too.”

“Yeah, yeah… you start going crazy without someone to talk to. Nobody to listen to you instead of just waiting for their turn to talk and-“ He stopped mid-sentence, giving up on words as a whole.

Instead he scooped Jimmy up in his arms, holding him close. It surprised the man and that wasn’t an easy thing to do.

“Nobody’s held me like this in some time.” Jimmy wrapped his arms around his back and squeezed him closer. “We barely know each other yet, but I don’t mind it.”

It was Manny who pulled away first. He looked a little guilty, like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not annoyed. Promise.”

“No. I know you’re not- Look, it’s fine.” But Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was true.

He’d never been sharp enough to pick up on this stuff. He could guess sometimes and get it right but when it came to complicated emotions like that he found himself lost.

“I’ll decide in the morning.”

“You willin’ to lend me a bed for the night?”

A hundred emotions washed over Manny’s face in quick succession before he finally responded. “Yeah. Take the bed next to mine. Nobody’s using it right now.”

In the morning Jimmy woke to see that Manny was already preparing his pack. He rubbed at his eyes and reached for the armour plates that he wore strapped over his vault suit. It was practical to wear when he needed to move around a lot, and it protected him well enough.

“So you’re comin’ with me?”

“I… Well, I decided there are more reasons to go than to stay.”

“Well, let’s get some food in us and get on the road then.”

 


	2. I'd wait anywhere for you, would you wait for me?

“Where’d you get a blade like that, Jim?”

The two of them had set up camp in an abandoned rest stop. It had taken time for Jimmy to get the place lit since the bulb had broken, and it wasn’t easy to find an intact replacement. There had been some debris to move aside as well, but they were able to set up their bedrolls and cook some canned pork and beans over a hot plate.

“What, this ole thing?” Jimmy patted the oddly shaped machete that he had laid out next to his pack. “Nabbed it off a legionary when I took the bastard down. Had this ripper saw before it but the damn thing was hard to take care of. I ain’t too good at fixin’ things.”

Manny whistled and scooped more beans into his mouth.

“Ain’t too good at shootin’ either. Good thing I had you with me today or that radscorp could’a got the drop on me.”

“It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long on your own. You’re nuts.”

Jimmy just grinned. “That’s why I need a good NCR boy to look after me, eh?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Manny playfully punched his arm and he giggled in that weird way he always did. He giggled like a kid.

Finishing their food, they spent some time musing on what they’d spend their money on once they had Cook-Cook’s head.

Jimmy wanted to take it all to the strip and gamble it. Manny said that was a dumb idea. What if they lost it all? Maybe he had a point. Then Jimmy said they could get some new equipment – more specifically some armour. That was apparently a much better idea, but they’d have money left over after that.

Maybe they’d keep it – hold onto it for when they really needed it. That was too boring. No, they had to do something special.

“What if we used it to find some new place to live?”

“Hmm?”

Manny continued. “Yeah, I mean… I’m not too happy living in Novac and you don’t have a place to call home right now.”

“S’pose so.”

“We could travel a while and find a nicer spot to live. Maybe we could get a Brahmin or two.”

Jimmy nodded. It was a nice idea. Not too boring but not a stupid one. Sure he’d only known this guy a couple of days but he trusted him. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

“Yeah. I like that.”

It was far easier to sleep at night with somebody nearby.

  
  


__

  
  


Manny couldn’t help but feel disconnected from Jimmy in some ways. For starters, Jimmy was older than he was but acted like a rowdy teenager. He hadn’t believed it at first when the man had told him he was 30 years old. Another thing was that while Manny had opened up to him about where he came from – even his history with the Khans – he still didn’t know where Jimmy came from. He knew he’d been out on the road for a long time but it was as if the guy had materialised out of nowhere. He never spoke of his childhood or anything like that.

Another reason why Manny felt so distanced from his travelling partner was the reputation he seemed to have everywhere they went. There would always be someone that knew him on a first name basis and who owed him something. Who the hell was this guy?

When they came into Freeside, a young man in a leather jacket approached him and handed him a handful of caps “from the King”. Manny was way in over his head.

“So, what exactly brings us here?”

Jimmy waved a hand. “I gotta pick up some stuff at Mick and Ralph’s. Supplies and shit.” Before Manny could say anything he had disappeared into the aforementioned shop.

Waiting outside, he found himself exchanging glances with one of the locals. He looked unhappy to see him, and at first he didn’t realise why until he remembered that his beret gave him away as an NCR citizen. Not only that, but a veteran of their military. The locals of Freeside had some mixed opinions on citizens of the NCR and the worst part was they had reasons to.

He was relieved when Jimmy emerged after only a couple of minutes, and he could have sworn he saw the frown dissolve from the local’s face.

“I know a place we can spend the night. Ever been to the Wrangler?”

“Can’t say I have.” Manny kept close to him as they walked through the ruined streets. “When we came to the strip on leave we used the train.”

“Ah, yeah. You can use that big ole railway if you’re NCR. Almost forgot. Well, I dunno how you’ll like the Wrangler but it’s a friendly place. It’s full of booze, gambling and ass. Hell else do ya go to bars for, eh?”

One more reason for the disconnect between them was sex. Jimmy was extremely casual in his mentions of sex and that wasn’t unusual. The wasteland was no place for shame, really. No, the problem was it made things awkward. It made it harder to avoid thinking the kind of thoughts that he feared would ruin their friendship. Jimmy probably wouldn’t mind if he knew that he was slowly turning into the object of Manny’s barely concealed lust but he just didn’t have the balls to tell him. He just didn’t know how to bring it up with him, and felt like it was better to keep his mouth shut sometimes.

“You alright there, Manny?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired from the road.” He lied.

“Let’s get your ass in a seat and a drink in your hand, pal.”

This was probably a bad idea.

Of course, he agreed to it anyway.

  
  


__

  
  


Jimmy had known Manny to be a very calm and quiet guy so far, so seeing the man drunk was interesting.

While alcohol put Jimmy in a more mellow and less brash state, it seemed to make Manny act a little impulsive.

He’d managed to somehow win at blackjack several times, much to the dealer’s chagrin, and had started shooting bottles to wow the bar’s patrons. Luckily, this was the kind of bar where he could get away with that kinda shit. Jimmy just watched, impressed and amused.

“So, Jimmy. Tell me about this guy you dragged in here.” James Garrett was polishing a glass with a rag when he approached Jimmy at the bar.

“What’s there to tell, James?”

Francine chipped into the conversation. “Well, we wanna know where you found your new squeeze. Come on, you cough up the details or I’ll have to start torturing you.”

He smiled wistfully, a redness settling in his face. “No, no. Manny’s just my companion. Helpin’ me take out some big name fiend for a cut of the bounty.” He took one last swig of his fifth beer.

“Nuh-uh, you can’t fool me mister. I saw the way that young fella looked at you and I see that stupid grin on your face.” James chided, swapping his empty for a fresh bottle. “You might be a dumbass but I’m not.”

“Not a dumbass-“

“Come on, you know you’re slow. You wouldn’t notice he liked you if he was kissin’ on you right now.”

Jimmy stuck his tongue out between his lips and the twins laughed at him.

“Whatever, you two. Prolly just messin’ with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

When Manny came waltzing back up to the bar requesting one more drink, Francine rushed to fetch him one, winking to Jimmy as she turned around.

The two of them had finished their beers when Manny decided to hire a room. He had mentioned being tired before, so Jimmy wasn’t surprised. He still wanted to play the slots a few times before he went to bed himself, so he watched Manny leave and then made his way to the desk to get himself some chips.

  
  


 

 


	3. He was lovesick but didn't know.

 

At some point Jimmy had picked up another drink. He played the slots a few times but found little joy in it. He’d had his fun for the night.

“Jimmy, you lookin’ to hire a room?” Francine called after him, but he had already made it halfway up the stairs.

James nudged her in the ribs. “He doesn’t need one, silly. His boy toy already got one for both of ‘em.”

Luckily Jimmy was too wasted to hear any of it, or he would have turned and fallen flat on his ass. He was sluggish and drunk, and before he realised it he was outside Manny’s room and didn’t even know why. He didn’t question himself about it – fuck that. He opened the door and closed it again behind him.

“J-Jim, hey! What are you-“

Oops.

He wasn’t supposed to see this, was he?

But there he was right in front of him, on his back with his hand in his pants. He made no effort to hide what he had been doing, since it was so obvious anyway.

“Heheh, Manny… That’s naughty.” He arrived at the foot of the bed and crawled towards him, riled up from the booze and the sight he’d just seen and all that teasing about his ‘new squeeze’.

He didn’t say anything, frozen still as Jimmy hovered over him.

“Whatcha doin’ Manny? Having fun without me?”

Maybe if he was lucky Manny would just think this was a dream in the morning. He already felt embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with something smarter or sexier to say.

Instead he leaned in and kissed Manny. Not on the mouth, though. He missed and instead ended up mashing against his cheek and jaw, licking and nibbling wherever he could reach.

“J-Jim, hey. Come on, man.”

“We’re gonna be rich, baby…”

A roaming hand made its way to the front of his pants and squeezed him through the fabric. Manny threw his head back and whimpered.

Then suddenly he just stopped. His hand returned to Manny’s stomach and he stopped kissing him to bury his face in his neck. Was he seriously about to fall asleep on him?

He fell asleep on him.

  
  


__

  
  


There weren’t many words between them as they made their way to the Freeside gate late the next morning. It was hard to come up with something to say after whatever that was.

Manny wasn’t even sure it had happened – it was easier to explain it as a wet dream brought on by loneliness and booze. He didn’t like the thought that he’d embarrassed himself in front of his travelling companion.

And what was with that?

Why did sloppy and uncoordinated kisses and being groped through his clothes get him so flustered and shy? He was a grown man, damn it.

He had to keep his eye on the prize. The prize was Cook-Cook’s head.

It wasn’t hard to distract himself with all the information he had read in the fiend’s file. The guy had done some awful things to both adults and children. He was responsible for many deaths and severe injuries in the past few years, including several cases of sexual abuse. Taking this guy down would be worth it, and not just for the money. He’d read a few names on his list of victims that he recognised.

“So how are we gonna approach this Cook-Cook guy?” He decided that someone had to start a conversation and it might as well be him.

“What do ya mean by that?” At first he thought Jimmy was joking but there was no hint of sarcasm on his face. Jimmy probably wasn’t capable of sarcasm anyway.

“Well, what’s our strategy? I imagine I’d need to keep a slight distance behind you so I can get a good aim.” He examined a crack on the road. “What are you thinking of doing? I mean it’s not like you can just charge straight at a guy with a flamethrower and metal…”

He trailed off when he glanced at the man and saw that his eyes had widened like an animal about to flee.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t fuckin’ thought about this yet!”

Jimmy waved his hands. “What? I’m used to improvisin’ and I don’t like thinking too much.”

He sighed, exasperated. “Man, you’re a disaster. Honestly.”

He stopped walking, puzzling Manny for a second as he swivelled to look directly at him.

“Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be fine.”

“At least let me suggest a few ideas to you.”

Jimmy groaned but also nodded, and they continued to walk while discussing possible ways to more effectively kill Cook-Cook. They might have been motivated by the large sum they were being paid but being careful was always important to avoid risking injury, or so Manny said.

  
  


__

  
  


The fiends that followed Cook-Cook’s command were quick work. Manny picked off the ones that were further away while Jimmy cut down the stragglers with his blade. How could he keep his cool while cutting right through people like that? Manny made a mental note to ask him this later.

The real difficulty came when they reached the ruined buildings that housed Cook-Cook. A powerful figure clad in metal plates emerged from the wreckage of one wall, his flamethrower jutting out in front of him like a threat.

“Jimmy, remember what we talked about!”

He nodded and started to duck and weave. The idea was that flamethrowers were heavy and took time to aim so if Jimmy weaved and Manny kept his distance it wouldn’t be as much of a problem.

“Come on, little bug. Quit skitterin’ around and let me squish ya!” A raspy and crazed voice rang out from behind that distinctive helmet.

Jimmy maintained his cool. He was really good at that. Eventually he was close enough to take a swing at his opponent, but before he knew it he was struck to the back of his head. He had dropped to his knees before he could even register what was happening.

“Nice swing!” He heard Cook-Cook yell to the fiend that had caught him off guard.

It didn’t make sense – how had he gotten behind Jimmy if Manny was covering him? A glance backward revealed the reason.

Manny was unconscious and being dragged closer by a few dirt-splattered fiends. He hadn’t recalled there being any close by that could have run up on the sniper. They must have been hiding somewhere, but Jimmy hadn’t the time to ask himself where before he was struck once more and this time hit the ground.

Pain rang through his jaw and nose on impact, and despite his efforts to stay awake he was drifting off.

 


	4. I'd die anytime for you, would you die for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very violent and emotional so be prepared for it.

 

 

You know you’re fucked when you wake up to the sensation of tightly wrapped cord cutting off the circulation in your wrists.

Jimmy groaned at the dull pain that was pulsing through the back of his head. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious and he could feel dirt settling in his hair and on his cheek.

“Ooh, he’s awake. Rise and shine.”

He felt a fist coil in his hair and he sucked air through his teeth as he was tugged to his knees. The force prickled in his scalp afterward. Cook-Cook removed the rag that had been tied across his eyes and he squinted up at the fiend.

“Was worried you weren’t gonna wake up.” Laughed the foul-smelling man.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he realised that he was inside the ruined house that Cook-Cook resided in. The flickering light of a nearby campfire allowed him to spot Manny, who was several feet away and bound to a chair. His legs were tucked carefully against the legs and fastened in place with leather belts. Jimmy imagined his arms were bound with the same material. Something had been taped into his mouth to gag him. He looked at Jimmy, afraid.

“Manny. Are you okay?”

A gloved hand came down upon his cheek hard, stinging pain left in its wake.

“Don’t ignore me, NCR pig. I’m talking to you.” Cook-Cook snarled close to his ear. He could feel specks of saliva leave his gritted teeth and land on his skin, and hot breath gushing against him as well.

The hand came back to him again, not in a strike but to grab onto the straps of his armour. He whimpered in honest fear as the fiend picked his protective layer away so that he was vulnerable.

He knew what this guy did to people. He knew he was in for a world of hurt. Jimmy was certain of what was happening next, as Cook-cook began to open his weathered vault 3 jumpsuit. An amused grin lined his face as he traced the number with his finger.

“Where’d you get the suit? We killed everyone in that stupid vault, so it can’t be yours.”

Jimmy spat, barely missing the fiend’s eye. Instead, he hit his cheek and Cook-Cook struck him again. This time he felt blood trickle onto his chin as his lip caught on his teeth with the blow.

“You’ve got a lot of heart, eh?”

As the man’s dirty gloves reached his bare skin he squirmed and struggled, a rush of adrenaline inspiring him to flee.

“Shh… stay put, now. We have to put on a nice show for your little companion.”

Without his arms free there was little else he could do but wriggle weakly in the man’s grip. He still felt dizzy from being knocked out, and it was making his stomach turn.

His underwear was taken from him, and he sobbed. He could barely force himself to look up at Manny, who had been crying quietly for a while, the dust and soot on his face streaked where his tears had peeled it away.

He heard the man spit, felt it on his skin. Then came the stretch. With virtually no preparation or lubrication it hurt. If he hadn’t spat first Jimmy was sure that Cook-Cook would tear him on the inside. He did his best to bite back a scream as he started moving.

He didn’t waste any time, ramming into him mercilessly as he dug his teeth into his lower lip and grunted at the repeated pressure and pain.

It wasn’t clear how long he lasted for – it was as if Jimmy was lapsing in and out of consciousness the entire time. At some point though, the bastard had managed to get himself off and came inside of him. He felt hands grip his waist too hard and a few shuddering breaths as it happened. Then he laughed a little bit.

The only indicator that he was still alive was that he could still feel air in his lungs and his tears still poured from his eyes.

He looked up at Manny again, who was crying into his gag and fighting his bonds. He wanted to say something to him; anything at all.

Then something was poured on him – it felt warm and sticky on his skin and he couldn’t tell what it was. His vision had gone blurry with tears. It was thrown over his torso. Some of it hit his chin and neck. The rest was splashed over his leg and he twitched at the feeling of it.

There was mumbling, the sound of something heavy and metal being shifted around. Manny wailed into his gag and struggled hard enough that the chair shifted around on the dusty ground.

He screamed now. He knew what was going to happen.

The flames started at his ankle and whatever had been thrown over him was immediately ignited. The overwhelming heat spread across his form, tearing at his skin as he kicked and thrashed in an attempt to roll himself over.

Eventually he managed, dropping face down into the dirt and continuing to throw his weight so that he could smother the flames with it.

His breathing was ragged and shallow. His skin screamed with pain and the dirt only caused an insufferable itching that enhanced it further. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage as he heard footsteps in Manny’s direction.

“Aren’t you stubborn? I’ll have to finish you off later. For now, though…”

Jimmy looked up, although his eyes could barely open, in time to see him hovering over Manny. The blade in his hand was Jimmy’s own machete gladius. He shouted, a barely comprehensible “you fucker” as it came down upon his companion.

He couldn’t bear to look at the mess. It was all blood and dirt and Manny, who was not moving anymore. He slumped in the chair, only his restraints holding him in a sitting position.

Jimmy blacked out for a while. It could have been ten seconds or it could have been a full minute. Either way, he woke up and his wrists were no longer tied. Cook-Cook had left for some reason but he was certain he’d be back to kill him. Cutting his own prisoner free was obviously proof of that. He didn’t expect Jimmy to be capable of movement right now anyway.

He was impressed that his lower half was even co-operating as he crawled towards the doorway. All he could really do was pray that the coast would be clear. Luckily there was nobody around to spot him. He dragged himself as far as he could possibly manage, before losing consciousness face down in the dirt.

  


__

  


When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the ceiling of a white canvas tent. It was patched up in places and it made a little whistling noise as wind teased the fabric.

His body was throbbing and prickling all over. Something was wrapped around his torso and limbs, and he could feel something taped to his face as well.

He deduced that this was a medical tent. He’d seen enough of them in his time to recognise them when he saw them.

“Oh! Jimmy! Hello? Do you hear me?”

He tried to speak, but could only grunt. He noticed that he was hooked up to a drip. It was Julie Farkas smiling down at him with that unsettling Mona Lisa smile of hers.

“You’ve been out for a long time. Almost two months. Your wounds are healing very well, thanks to our treatment.”

He mumbled a barely audible “thank you” and tried to move, only to find that his entire body felt very heavy. He supposed it would have to wait a while before he was up on his feet again.

  


  


 


	5. I must be on your wall, or in your soup.

It took a few months to fully recover from his ordeal.

In that time he spent many evenings sitting and drinking with Beatrix when they managed to find a private spot. She told him stories about Boone’s courier. He’d been wrong about the romantic part perhaps, as there was nothing going on between them. Supposedly she’d employed Arcade on her travels too. Since he was nowhere to be seen Jimmy was inclined to believe that – the researcher wasn’t one to leave his post for no reason at all.

She told him that they had gone to the strip and killed the owner of the Tops in his own casino. The guy, Benny, had pissed the courier off and she’d been itching to get him back.

Apparently she’d also uncovered some kind of conspiracy within the Ultra-Luxe as well and the White Glove Society had undergone some serious spring-cleaning in the staff department s a result.

Now Mr. House wanted to meet her in person, she was getting letters from the NCR ambassador and she was carrying the ‘mark of Caesar’ or something.

Whoever this courier was, she’d certainly made a name for herself within a short amount of time. Supposedly people called her “Six”.

In return he had vented to Beatrix about everything that had happened – losing his partner before he got the chance to tell him how he felt and being defiled by the very man they were meant to kill. She coached him as best she could but she was no therapist. He was all wound up about it in a way she couldn’t even hope to fix.

It didn't matter, though – there was something comforting in not being the only one feeling ugly in their damaged and broken skin.

__

  
  


“You mean more bounty hunter work? Are you sure you can handle it yet?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Just something to warm me up and get me back on my feet. Maybe some caravan guard work.”

Julie sighed. She’d have told him to give it another week or two if she trusted him to listen.

“Well I heard from a traveller yesterday that Crimson Caravan are recruiting really son – maybe they’d be your best bet.”

Jimmy grinned and wrapped a scarf over the lower half of his face, then made his way out of the fort.

“”Thanks for everything, really, but I gotta get back in the game soon as possible.”

“And why is that?”

“I still haven’t killed Cook-Cook.”

It was typical behaviour for him. He was barely out of his bandages and was already itching for another fight.

With his reputation it wasn’t exactly hard to get hired. The old woman from out of town that managed the branch had heard all about him already. Before he knew it he was back on the road, for better or for worse. The caravan he guarded was headed southward.

There was something about the route that bothered him, though.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was until he was there. The surroundings were all too familiar. This was Powder Ganger territory. Unlike the Correctional Facility, the vault wasn’t known to the NCR just yet. After all, it was tucked away underground. Normally he wouldn't fear these people - they had no reason to hold anything against him. However, travelling with an NCR caravan was essentially inviting negative attention.

He knew he had to bail.

He was usually not the type to turn tail and run, but being out of practice and a little weakened from his months in recovery he was certain he’d not make it out alive if he was seen with the other guards. When he was certain nobody would notice he slipped out of sight.

He’d been right. At least his instincts out in the wastes worked better than his instincts with other people.

They were taken out almost too easily. After all, they had no choice but to huddle together around the pack Brahmin that they were protecting. The only way to survive an attack by dynamite would have been to split up. Sticking together only meant that one stick could be enough to knock two or three of them down.

He watched from behind a nearby house, and once the commotion was in full swing he snuck around so that he could just casually appear.

“Hold it right there! You with them?”

Jimmy shook his head, with arms raised high in surrender. “Y’all already forget me?”

“Jimmy? Shit, what happened to you?” One of the convicts finally realised who he was upon hearing his voice. He remembered that the guy had been called Beauford.

He knew he had recognised these guys – he’d taken on a job before from the Powder Gangers to take out some people who caused them trouble. That was how he came to know a lot of people.

“Got myself hurt, but I’m better. I see you guys got some action today.” He nodded towards the remains of his own caravan.

“Oh, yeah. These NCR pricks thought they could just waltz right through here with all these goods.” Beauford watched as his men rifled through the contents of the crates.

It tugged at him inside to have to betray somebody for his survival. He’d changed somehow, that much was certain. Maybe he just couldn’t care about others as much as he’d like to. Not after he had cared so much for Manny. He had to stop thinking about Manny right away; he’d only barely gotten himself together about him.

“So, you guys need any help carrying this shit back to the vault?

  
  


__

  
  


He’d taken a duffle bag full of loot onto his shoulders and lugged it back to the vault amongst the group. Once he was rested enough he could simply return to the Caravan branch and inform them that they were his by Powder Gangers. He could spin something about how he got captured and barely managed to talk his way out of being killed.

Once he arrived he was surprised to see Arcade in the hall with a strange woman.

He resisted the urge to call out to him – in all the time he’d known him Arcade never remembered him. He couldn’t blame the guy though since he saw plenty of people come in and out of the fort for treatment. Besides he’d never done anything to make an impact on the guy. Unlike the shallow population of New Vegas the follower was not influenced in his opinions by public reputation. He made a point of ignoring all the gossip. Jimmy knew this because he was one of the few people who never cared for his stories. He’d just run off after making a hasty excuse about some research notes he needed to review or something.

He imagined that he was unrecognisable now as well, his face and his body ruined.

“Juliette, shouldn’t we be headed for the strip by now?”

Juliette. He knew that name. Courier Six.

“I won’t be long. Just let me help out around here and we’ll leave after.”

Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose.

 


	6. [BONUS CHAPTER] Time to put my clothes on; don't say a word.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little thing that isn't necessary plot important but makes a nice character study. Arcade and Jimmy's intimate encounter.

 

Why she had insisted on going alone he found difficult to comprehend.

He was hardly the reincarnation of Genghis Khan even on his most stressful days, but it wasn’t as if going without him was a better tactical choice than the alternative. He was a decent shot, and would be capable of providing decent cover fire. He was armed with a plasma weapon, and made a serviceable medic despite not being a full-time practitioner.

It was likely her massive ego that made her seek such dangerous thrills. She couldn’t resist the allure of a potential conversation point to throw around the tables at the Wrangler or the Tops. Six was a rowdy kind of person that Arcade couldn’t relate to, but he could find a certain level of endearment in it – she needed someone to keep an eye on her because she was, quite frankly, an idiot. Who else would bandage her up when she attempted (and somehow succeeded) to take on a whole pack of nightstalkers with only brass knuckles and a shot of psycho?

Six had spent many a scotch-drenched evening retelling that story, injuries omitted, to equally inebriated crowds. It guaranteed her a decent dosage of attention, especially from thrill-seeking NCR women on the strip. They practically fell into her arms as she recalled to them her bare-handed triumph over a Legion vexillarius and his accompanying men. It amazed him that such an obnoxious and impulsive person could be so popular, but at the same time it really didn’t.

This time, she had given him a pat on the shoulder and informed him that she’d handle this alone and Arcade already knew how it would go down. He was to wait until she got back and then deal with the non-stop chatter of a bruised but beaming woman all the way back to the 38. Where she lacked in intelligence she more than made up for it with enthusiasm.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle myself, ‘Cade. Really.” She fiddled with her cigarette before putting it out in a nearby coffee mug. “You can wait here; have something to eat if you’d like.”

Gesturing towards the various threatening faces that populated the vault’s cafeteria, she grinned and turned on her heel.

“Don’t you dare get yourself killed, young lady.”

“You’re the best dad a girl could want.” She sing-songed and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oh, I’m not that old. I’m only in my thirties-”

But she was already over the threshold and in the corridor before he could make any further banter. Great. He’d just have to socialise with the locals.

The problem with that was, the locals were a bunch of escaped convicts.

He was out of place almost everywhere they went, being an unusually tall man who spoke in a manner that raised eyebrows almost without fail. Even in armour he couldn’t fit in with the more well-travelled and sun-beaten population of the Mojave.

Here, though, he was a circus animal.

Eyes were on him from every direction, glances stolen when they thought he was unaware. He knew exactly why, too. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that a nerdy guy with a pretty face might bring in attention from a large band of disgruntled prison escapees, These guys had even been giving Six the eye until she scowled hard enough that they simply stopped in fear of their lives.

Unfortunately Arcade hadn’t much talent in the scowling department.

He gave a defeated sigh and did his best to ignore the eyes trained on him, as if poised to pounce. He slid into the most isolated seat he could find in the vault diner but found that it was already too late; a nearby powder ganger grunted at the sound of the stool’s legs on the linoleum and glanced in his direction.

He was sprinkled with Mojave dirt, similarly to his fellow inhabitants. Arcade had heard there was only one shower still working in this vault, so it was no surprise that these guys didn’t seem to wash often. His hair was slightly greasy, too, which meant a few auburn strands clung to his forehead and it had become lifeless everywhere else. He had a deadly look to him, but a weirdly soft gaze. The rest of his face was covered by some sort of threadbare scarf, so all he got was that gaze.

“You’d better watch your back around here, ya know.”

Arcade cracked a weak smile. “I figured that for myself. I don’t fit in here.”

“Not just that.” The young criminal scratched his chin. “Hell, I don’t even fit in here ‘cause I’m not a powder ganger either.”

He raised his eyebrows at this information. The guy certainly looked scarred and vicious enough to be a criminal. The machete on his hip alone gave off that impression.

“Nah, I’m just a travelling guard at the moment, visiting in-between jobs. Never been part of no group like this.” He bit a scrap of iguana meat from his skewer and chewed like he was in a hurry – as hungry as he was unwashed. “Your problem is, you’re the type that takes their fancy.”

He said nothing to that. There wasn’t really much he could say. He gingerly popped the cap from his sarsaparilla bottle and took a sip.

“Guys like you, they say they used to buy and sell like property in prison.” He muttered in a sorrowful tone. “They might not be fiends or anything but these guys are predatory. You can’t let your guard down.”

Arcade nodded slowly. “Solid advice. Thanks.”

The man broke the silence by tipping his lips up in a slanted smile.

“Oh – rude of me not to introduce myself, eh? Jimmy. Jimmy Ghadames. Yours?”

“Jimmy, huh? Well Jimmy, my name is Arcade Gannon. As you can probably guess I’m a follower.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. And I ain’t too sharp on that stuff normally.”

Jimmy took a mouthful of meat between his teeth and started to chew. It seemed he’d taken a little too much and was struggling to break it down. Arcade suppressed a laugh.

__

  
  


“My goodness, Juliette! Just what did you find down there?”

Arcade was only half surprised to see his travelling companion return with soot smeared across half of her face and various surface wounds all over her arms. Her eyes twinkled with a sense of victory, though, as she had clearly been successful in her assignment.

“Couple of nasty critters, ‘Cade. Nothing I couldn’t handle!” She raised her fist and several powder gangers joined in, whistling and hooting at her triumph. “Why thanks, gentleman. I’m always happy to help out.”

She show-boated a little more until Arcade ushered her to a table to check her for bleeding. A few of the scrapes on her arms had drawn blood, so he wiped them clean with whiskey and applied bandaging to protect them. It wasn’t great, and he’d need to wash them under water as soon as they found some, but it would do for now.

“Ready to get movin’ yet, ‘Cade?” Of course she was already itching to get back on the road. The woman had seemingly endless energy.

He hummed. “Well… I’m actually sort of tired. Maybe getting some decent sleep in an actual bed would be a better idea if we’re to make the walk back to the strip.”

“Ah. Good thinking.” She nodded. “Those vault beds sure are cosy old things, eh?”

It wasn’t exactly hard to haggle a bed for the night out of the convicts; after her little stunt with the fire geckos Six found that they were more than happy to do her favours.

They were given their own rooms – Six, because she would share over her dead body, and Arcade for essentially the same reason. A couple of prisoners had offered Arcade a spot in their rooms and she had quickly repelled them, miming various acts of violence with her hands until they got the idea.

“I sure wish they wouldn’t pick on you like this, ‘Cade… You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

He shook his head. “No, no. You don’t need to concern yourself about me. I’m alert and capable of defending myself.” He patted the plasma weapon on his hip, assuring himself as much as he was assuring Juliette.

She waved to him as she disappeared into her room and he slipped through his own door almost immediately. He wasn’t spending any more time out in the hall on his own than he had to.

Shedding his armour and boots, he had a moment of indecisiveness between the two beds in his room. Eventually he just chose at random, tucking himself in and sighing at the comfort of sleeping on at actual mattress. Sleeping on bedrolls in ruined buildings for a few nights in a row really put things in perspective every time.

He was drifting off when he heard his door open. Remembering what he had been warned of that afternoon, he reached towards the nearby dresser where he had left his plasma defender.

“Hey, Arcade. Don’t be scared, pal. It’s just me.”

The voice of Jimmy was at least partially reassuring. He was a scary guy but definitely trustworthy. Something in his relaxed mannerisms gave him that aura.

“Just worryin’ about you is all. Mind if I sit?” He stepped into the glow of the bedside lamp and Arcade nodded silently. Taking a seat on the other bed, he continued. “Real sorry if I woke you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping just yet. No worries. Besides, I’ve been feeling anxious on my own.”

He sat up in his bed and Jimmy watched him quietly.

“Well, I’d be happy to accompany a pretty face like yours for the night.” He threw both hands up when Arcade smirked at him “Oh, you know what I meant.”

“So what’s with the scarf, Jimmy? Out of curiosity.”

“Oh, this old thing? Not a big deal. Just so I don’t attract too much attention.” He tugged the cloth down so that it hung loose around his neck, exposing the scar tissue that stretched from his cheek all the way down past the neckline of his vault suit. “See I ain’t tryna show my chewed up face off to everyone, yeah?”

“I don’t think it your face is even that shocking. Maybe you’re just over-thinking it.” He let his eyes wander over the creases of the burn scars, not ready to ask where they had come from.

“Hmm. Maybe. Maybe it’s more for me than for other people, eh?”

Arcade threw back the covers suddenly, unsure of exactly what he was doing. He walked towards Jimmy, his socks silencing his steps.

“Let me look at it.”

Jimmy looked a little on edge as Arcade caught his other cheek with his hand and examined the man’s face. His skin was tanned from long days in the sun, and the scars had to be at least a year old. He wondered how far the scars went, under all of his clothing. He was only human – pondering what was under another man’s clothes was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Do you think it’s weird? Think it’s ugly?”

He slowly shook his head. “No. It’s only normal to have scars. Especially when you travel dangerous roads.”

“Scars like these, though, you don’t see ‘em much.”

“True. But they’re honestly not anything to worry about. They have healed well and will definitely get look better over time. They don’t even look bad now.”

Jimmy pressed his face into Arcade’s palm. This conversation was steering towards an unexpected turn.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the whole thing.”

“Try me.”

His response surprised Jimmy, and it was his turn to throw his eyebrows up in surprise. That made them even.

“Do you realise what you’re askin’ me to do right now?”

“If you do, then chances are I do too. You’re supposedly not sharp, remember?”

Jimmy breathed a little laugh at that. Arcade could feel the man’s pulse intensifying in his skin.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

He shook his head and reached to start removing his suit. Arcade turned around in an effort to make things less awkward, only to realise he had made it even weirder. His extensive knowledge of plants didn’t extend particularly well into human interaction territory.

“You sure you want to see it?”

Arcade nodded. “Can I turn around?”

“Sure.” Jimmy mumbled.

He turned to see that he had removed his armoured vault suit, and sat on the bed wearing only a tattered white vest and his underwear. Avoiding eye contact, he squirmed under Arcade’s studious stare.

It stretched all the way down his thigh, covering half of his torso and most of his left arm. Half of his body seemed to be swallowed by the contorted tissue. There was nothing repulsive about it, though. In fact, it was fascinating. The way it streaked down his body reminded him of broad brush strokes. The texture captured his intrigue.

He reached a hand out towards Jimmy’s shoulder, and the man eventually nodded. With only his finger tips at first, Arcade traced the curvature where his shoulder met his neck and Jimmy shuddered at his touch. This was dangerous territory he was treading – he purposely avoided getting too attached to the various people he had met on his travels so far. He was risking a lot letting himself indulge in such attraction.

He pressed his palm against Jimmy’s chest, watching a tiny moan escape his lips at the warmth of his touch.

Suddenly the other’s eyes snapped open wide and he gently pushed Arcade’s hand away.

“S-Sorry, I…”

“No. Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

He watched Jimmy dress himself again, hands shaking as he tried to zip his leather suit back on. Eventually he managed, red in the face with embarrassment, but also something else that arcade couldn’t read.

“I… can’t do this right now. Besides, I gotta get my rest.”

“Of course. It’s alright Jimmy, I mean it.”

“Thanks.”

He dragged himself out of the room and waved goodnight to the follower, who went back to bed with more questions than he’d had getting out of it.

  
  


  
  


 


	7. We'll never reap what we sow, for this is not what we chose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare to meet a new boy whom I love. A nerd bitch.

  
  


In the morning he asked around to find that Juliette and Arcade had left already. He wasn’t surprised. After getting his kit together and taking the opportunity to use the shower, he was ready to move again.

There were definitely silver linings to this situation – on one hand all the caravaners were dead and the cargo was lost, but he also could take his time heading back to the branch. He never claimed to be an honest guy, so it wasn’t like he was doing bad.

He drifted for a few days, sleeping on tattered bedding in abandoned trailers and eating wild fruits. After spending so much time within the walls of Freeside he’d grown claustrophobic. He’d have to add “second degree burns” to his growing list of his least favourite experiences.

Eventually though, he started to miss at least having a door to close when he settled down for the night. He promised himself he’d find a house or something that he could sleep in soon, heading back in the direction of Vegas.

He’d come across some merchants and sold some things he had managed to salvage from a ruined house – kitchen-ware, a vacuum cleaner and several packs of cigarettes. He didn’t like to smoke all that much but he always picked them up since they were good for money. With a good few extra caps in his pack he was able to buy some meat – a roasted leg from a giant mantis. There was nothing wrong with a treat now and then. He ate it as he walked down the shattered road.

When he spotted an outpost, he figured he’d just cashed out on a full year’s luck. The emblem painted on the sign outside indicated that it belonged to the Followers. If there was anywhere in the Mojave you could find a place to rest it was here.

“Sir, you got business here?” He heard a familiar female voice from behind him. It was Juliette. “Oh! You’re the fella from the vault. The, uh, the guard.”

She looked as road-ragged as ever, her reinforced leather armour splashed with dirt and what looked like traces of blood. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun, out of her face. The pistol on her hip looked well-used and loved. She was unmistakably the same woman.

Another woman was with her, wearing strange armour that was covered with dark burlap material and wielding a power fist. She had a pretty face and a mischievous smile. Her arm was hooked around Juliette’s and it didn’t surprise him in the least. She was the type who could get a date with anyone she wanted.

“Yeah. Hoping to find a rest spot. I was hopin’ they’d be able to help because of my uh… physical impairment.” He absentmindedly rubbed at his thigh where he swore he could feel the scarring even through a layer of leather.

They agreed to simply head in together. Jimmy got to talk to the armoured girl a little on the way up the stairs. Her name was Veronica and she had left the Brotherhood of Steel. That was weird; nobody usually left the Brotherhood. They were all about hiding away and keeping everyone else out. It sounded like bad news.

And bad news it was.

“Oh- Oh my goodness. This is my fault.”

Veronica was shaking as she spoke. At first he wasn’t sure what she was talking about until he was fully inside. The bodies of both followers and paladins littered the place. It was a sad sight. One of the doctors had been turned to dust by one of the paladins’ fancy laser weapons.

“I shouldn’t have offered my knowledge. I should have known they would come here.” Juliette comforted her, cooing and rubbing her shoulders as Jimmy made his way into the next room to investigate.

Before he knew it the barrel of an energy weapon was pressed against his chest.

“Wait. Don’t move.”

  
  


__

  
  


The man before him was young – had to be in his early-to-mid twenties. He was also very short. His lab coat hung a bit further down his legs than it should have – if Jimmy had to guess he’d say the guy was roughly 165cm tall. His wheat-blond hair was combed back into a neat little style that framed his face nicely and his shirt was tucked neatly into his pants. The weapon in his hands looked very out of place in his quaking hands.

“Are you one of them? Th- the brotherhood, I mean.”

The young man did his best to sound threatening but he was trembling.

“Hey, come on little fella. Put it down. I’m not from the brotherhood.”

His finger eased off of the trigger.

“I’m just a guard, making my way back to Crimson Caravan after a failed trip.”

Eyes scanned Jimmy through thick-framed glasses. Admittedly the scarf covering his face didn’t do a lot of favours for how trustworthy he looked. He lowered the gun, and looked somewhat relieved to see Juliette and Veronica with him.

“If you’re friends of theirs then I believe you. They’re good people.”

The courier beamed. “Titanic! You’re okay! Thank God.” She was certainly happy to see the follower, but still busied herself with consoling Veronica. Somebody had to do it.

“Yeah. I… I fought them.”

Six gestured widely towards the armoured bodies on the floor. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Veronica was wide-eyed as she noticed the gun in his hands.

“You- you used it! That little thing really is terrifying.”

It was hard to find something to say – Jimmy was all out of the loop on this situation. He said whatever came to mind.

“So does this mean I’ll have to find a different rest spot?”

__

  
  


After a long and deep talk with Juliette, Veronica managed to calm herself down. She accepted that it wasn’t her fault and that the Brotherhood’s rules were so fucked up. It was true – it was they who had stormed the place, energy weapons blazing. How was she supposed to know she was being tailed? She had made every effort to prevent this from happening and it still had. It wasn’t right to blame herself for trying to stick to her guns.

The two of them said their goodbyes to Jimmy and Titanic. They were making their way back to the Strip, where the courier had presidential suite. Jimmy was jealous. Titanic was only mildly impressed.

  
  


 

 


	8. A man of his appalling posture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff inbound

 

“This girl came, and she’d just left the Brotherhood of Steel. She said she wanted to join our cause – can you imagine the knowledge she’d be able to bring?”

Jimmy had no idea. It went without saying that he wasn’t particularly imaginative, especially when it came to the sciences. He nodded anyway, continuing to chew his meat like a wild animal. Hopefully Titanic wouldn’t notice that he was a bit dim.

“She had this weapon, this ‘pulse gun’ that disables and overheats robots and power armour with EMP signals.”

Half of those words didn’t fully register in Jimmy’s head.

“She told me she had tried to use it as evidence of danger, so her elder would wise up. He didn’t listen! Didn’t even seem concerned!”

“Nobody ever listens to the little guy, eh?” He mumbled.

“I’ll say. We know all about that in the Followers.” He immediately got back on topic. “Anyway we told her to come back a bit later once everybody was in, and off she went with that courier girlfriend of hers. We’re all waiting for her – it would be ten or fifteen minutes until she’d get back and that’s when these fellas show up.”

Abruptly he swallowed his food, and grimaced. “Lemme guess. These fellas were pissed off and clad in that classic Brotherhood gear?”

Sorrow washed over his face. He dead-panned as if he was apologising to the campfire itself.

“I can’t believe I even survived. I mean… look at me!” He gestured towards his thin and unthreatening form, dressed in a lab coat too large for him. Jimmy almost laughed, but stopped himself. He had to listen. He joined Titanic in staring at the fire.

“You know what I did, Jimmy? I threw myself down and played dead. Then I reached for that pulse gun.”

Glancing down at his can of pork and beans he realised he was meant to be eating.

“None of them were ready. The sounds they made were awful. Their suits were failing around them and they were screaming and it echoed in their helmets as they fucking… cooked.”

There was a failed attempt to scoop up some beans, as his hands were shaking too much to properly grip his spoon.

“I’m not a killer, Jimmy. At least I… I’d never killed anyone before but I- but… but I- I guess I am a killer now.”

The spoon dropped unceremoniously into the can and Jimmy saw that little tears were peeping from the corners of Titanic’s eyes. He sidled closer to the younger man’s side, catching his shoulders with a careful grip.

There was no need for words anymore. He knew that the followers were not violent people. It was only normal for him to be in shock. His body was so warm, and he caved into Jimmy’s touch.

Titanic leaned in and sobbed into the shoulder of Jimmy’s vault suit, his glasses riding up his nose and onto his forehead. It was bitter sweet – it seemed recently that Jimmy was hugging a lot of lonely strangers.

But he pushed the thought from his mind, rubbing circles into Titanic’s back and cooing to him.

“Hey, hey… Nick. Can I call you that – Nick?”

The follower kept his face buried in Jimmy’s chest but he shifted his head up and down like he was nodding.

“Well, Nick. Don’t feel bad. The Mojave is a mean old place. Everyone gets put on the spot sometimes and you had to protect yourself.”

He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going with this but he was doing his best to reassure the man. Where was Juliette when he needed her? She sure knew how to talk.

“You probably wouldn’t have been so scared. Do you think I’m a coward for being so affected?”

“What? Of course not! First time a guy has to fight is always terrifyin’ ya know. I still freak myself out plenty.”

Nick pushed him away and wiped his face which was all reddened and streaked with tears, before tugging off his glasses and wiping them on his sleeve.

“Sure you have. Name one time you’ve even been afraid. You look like you eat scrap metal every morning.”

Jimmy grinned. The kid was funny. It felt weird that such a young guy was so much smarter than him but at least he was entertaining.

“Am I not a nice lookin’ guy?”

“Not with that scarf over your mouth, like some kinda bandit.”

Jimmy understood what he was getting at and reached for the fabric that covered his face. He knew he could at least trust this kid not to give him grief about it.

“I- oh.” Titanic’s face was suddenly etched with concern as he hesitantly reached towards the older man’s face. Jimmy allowed him to feel the texture of his recently healed burns, where the flesh was tender and unusual. “You don’t look scary at all now, Jimmy.”

The kid knew how to make him turn beet red, too. He brushed his hand away and Nick actually cracked a weak little smile.

“Yeah, you know a time I really freaked myself out? This has something to do with it.” He waved a hand around the lower half of his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay talking about it? You cover the marks so I’d assume it’s not easy for you…” Nick was putting his glasses back on gingerly.

“No. I can’t keep wanderin’ around feelin’ ashamed and ugly ‘cause of what happened. I mean… I gotta say it before I lose my shit.” His hands were clenched into tight fists and now Nick was the one holding his shoulder.

Titanic’s touch was so gentle and uncertain he felt like he was dirtying the man’s hands with his presence. He looked up at that red little face, taking in the soft angles of his cheeks and the freckles that dusted his skin.

“I promise I’ll listen. I’m good at listening.”

  
  


__

  
  


“And so here I am. I spent some time at a vault full of convicts and embarrassed myself in front of another one of the followers but hey, I’m alive.”

Nick had listened to him in complete silence, eating the rest of his beans and then just playing with the can and spoon. He was taking in every word keenly.

“I’m so sorry, you know? About what happened. That sounds awful.” His voice was so small, like he was scared he would say something bad.

“I- yeah, it was scary and bad. Didn’t even get to tell him how I felt and it would have been perfect. Could have had a fuckin’ house and a herd of Brahmin and a field of fuckin’ corn and all that shit.”

Nick scooted back to his side and leaned against him, his hands laced together on his lap as he looked up at him attentively. He was tiny. Jimmy could break him so easily, if he wanted to. He wanted to look after him and make sure nobody got their hands on him. Who knew what this cruel wasteland would do to such a sweetheart.

“You can’t give up. You’ll find a way to make things work. I promise.” He spoke slowly but purposefully. “It’s not over yet.”

He gathered the small man in his arms and held him close. Nick froze and palmed at his back in confusion, but didn’t push him away. Maybe he needed it too.

“Jimmy, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m okay now. Thanks, Nick.”

 


	9. I think I'm scared of feeling more alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some bonding between sad traumatised men. Good shit.

The two of them stopped at the Crimson Caravan a lot more briefly than Titanic had expected. Jimmy was keen to put this whole thing behind him. It seemed like working as a caravan guard wasn’t his calling, he claimed.

The intimidating old woman behind the desk was distraught about the loss of the caravan. She had all sorts of questions. Luckily, it seemed, Jimmy had spent some time weaving together his story.

He told her all about how the caravan had been set upon by prison escapees, and how he couldn’t see it coming. He told her about how he was taken prisoner by these terrible powder gangers and managed to escape by pure luck. There was all this talk and description – Jimmy was a bit of an actor, it seemed.

Titanic froze up when the old woman asked about him, but Jimmy quickly explained that fiends had raided his outpost. Supposedly they had fought their way out together and were going to the strip where it was safe. Titanic said nothing. He didn’t want to give away their lie. He was a terrible liar.

As they made their way into Freeside Titanic felt eyes on him. He knew he was out of place. They obviously recognised his lab coat, and the insignia stitched into it. A couple of mumbling voices remarked at how lucky Jimmy was to be travelling with ‘one of those follower people – they’re smart’. He looked self-conscious. Jimmy was no genius when it came to people but Nick was walking awful close to him like he was a little kid with his parents, scared of being seen.

Jimmy didn’t hesitate. He spent the money the Crimson Caravan had given him to get some new equipment. He got himself some lighter armour, making absolutely certain it had decent resistance to heat. He brought his machete to Mick and Ralphs to get it cleaned up and sharpened. Then he turned to Titanic, who thought he was planning his next stop but would have been wrong.

“What about you, Nick?”

He looked a bit lost. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Jimmy’s lips. “You’ve been travelling with me; keeping me company. I ought to get you something.”

A flash of colour rushed to Nick’s face. “That’s not necessary, really. I’m the one who owes you.”

Jimmy gestured towards the array of weapons behind gridded steel. Nick was amazed at just how much weaponry Mick and Ralph were able to get their hands on.

“Pick something out, sweet thing.” He tossed in a little wink for good measure. “What kinda man would I be if I didn’t treat my young travelling companion?”

This earned a raised eyebrow from Mick, and a shit-eating grin from Ralph. Jimmy might have been overdoing it a bit. Maybe Nick was embarrassed, or maybe he was just overwhelmed.

“I- Well, I wouldn’t know what to choose. I don’t really know what to pick. Maybe you know better than me.”

Jimmy rolled some ideas around in his head. “Well I saw you were able to take out several guys with a pistol – you got good aim with small guns?”

Nick hesitated. “Well, I used to shoot bottles with my father, when I was a boy. Not exactly what you’d expect for a guy like me but he insisted that I should know how to handle a weapon just in case.”

“Seems like he was right.” Mick chimed in.

“Maybe he was.”

Jimmy rubbed his chin while he went over the specifics in his head. “I ain’t a gun expert but I’d say give him something small that packs a punch. Maybe something for up-close fightin’ too.”

It turned out the courier had sold several interesting pieces after a trip to Zion. Among the strange tribal weaponry were a few .45 pistols. Supposedly you didn’t see those around in the Mojave often since they were more of a New-Canaan model, but they also had good stopping power.

Where had Juliette nabbed something like this? Was she hanging out with particularly charitable religious travellers in Zion while he was out cold at the fort? She certainly got around. Everyone seemed to know about this brash and excitable woman with a bullet wound in her head and a strong right hook. Good for her.

He handed over the caps and passed the gun over to Titanic. The younger man was definitely impressed with the weapon, and a little hesitant to accept it too.

They threw in a pair of brass knuckles for no extra cost; said it was a gift for being such a loyal customer and a ‘little something for his sweetheart’. Nick turned bright red and hid his face. Ralph laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

When Jimmy mentioned that they were headed to the Fort to reunite Nick with his organisation, Mick pulled Jimmy closer by his forearm to mutter something to him.

“Ain’t gonna stop off at the Wrangler first? I’m sure they won’t miss him one more night, lover boy.”

Jimmy playfully punched Mick’s arm and they laughed at each other. “You motherfucker, Mick.”

Nick cocked a thick eyebrow but didn’t ask about it. He was an innocent little thing. Jimmy didn’t think about it too much in case his thoughts got a bit too adventurous.

They headed for the Fort in silence. Jimmy tried to strike up a conversation a few times but Nick had gone shy.

Julie Farkas certainly perked up when she saw him, at least.

“Is that you, Barbakis? How long has it been?”

He smiled slightly. “Hey, Doctor Farkas. It’s been almost a year since I got moved to the outpost.”

They both fell quiet for a second.

“I got a distress signal from the post recently. I’m guessing you’re here because something happened? Why not just radio in?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Couldn’t. The radio equipment got destroyed when the Brotherhood shot the damn place up.”

Julie gasped. “Are you alright, Barbakis?”

He shook his head. “Definitely not. I had to kill people, Doc.”

She held his shoulders reassuringly and offered him a bed for the night but Jimmy intercepted the conversation.

“Don’t worry Julie. I’ll take care of him.”

She looked up at Jimmy, then at Titanic. Then she looked at Jimmy again. Titanic shrank into his shoulders.

“Oh, right. I see.” She had a smile on her face like a mother sending her youngest daughter off to prom with her highschool sweetheart. "Just make sure you drop him off in one piece when he's all better and ready to work again."

__

The Garrett twins were happy to see Jimmy again. Naturally they had a lot of questions about Manny, and why he wasn’t there… and why Titanic was there instead. While Jimmy reluctantly recounted what had been happening in his life, Nick seemed preoccupied by the comedian up on the stage.

He really wasn’t from around here, standing out like a sore thumb int he crowd. The ghoul noticed this and immediately pointed him out.

“Ooh, look – a pretty boy in Freeside. I wonder where this little fella took a wrong turn.”

The crowd laughed. Not exactly hysterically but they were at least slightly amused. Nick joined in, letting out a little laugh of his own.

“He actually thinks Hadrian’s funny? Where did you find this kid, Jimmy?”

“Hey, he’s not a kid. He’s killed, ya know.”

Francine raised her eyebrows at that. “I’ve met 10-year-olds that have killed, Jimmy. It’s a crazy wasteland.”

“Have you met 10-year-olds that have killed Brotherhood Of Steel paladins?”

James let out a long, impressed whistle. “Nah, you’re making it up – that short fella? Anybody with arms could fold him in half.”

A smile crossed Jimmy’s face. “I saw the bodies, James; fried alive with energy weapons. I don’t travel with weak people. He’s been through a lot and he’s holding on strong.”

Snorting loudly, Francine poured Jimmy’s drink. “You sure do get to know people easy, don’t you?”

“I’m a nice person, Francine.”

Nick spoke up hesitantly, suddenly appearing behind Jimmy. “What’s this about nice people?”

Jimmy almost jumped out of his skin. “Geez, you’re light on your feet. Didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry, Jimmy.”

“Don’t worry, Nick. Hey, can one of you get him a drink? What do you take, Nick?”

He gestured with one hand vaguely. “Oh. Wine is okay for me.”

“Wine it is. I’m buying.”

Titanic’s face flushed again. Francine grinned and threw Jimmy a wink. Then Jimmy blushed too.


	10. I need someone to share with and someone to hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding of the most tearful, half-naked and drunk variety.

Jimmy was going to insist on getting Titanic a separate room so he could have some privacy – he had been through a lot and a little time alone might help. However, Nick protested. He was scared to be alone. He said that Jimmy made him feel safe. It was kind of cute.

They were drunk when they went upstairs to retire, but not shit-faced. A permanent flush has worked its way onto Nick’s freckled cheeks and he seemed slightly unsteady on his feet, but he seemed to feel okay.

Undressing to their underwear and lying down to get some rest, they both sighed at the relief of finally sleeping on something comfortable.

Even in the dim light of the bedside lamp Jimmy was able to get a closer look at Nick’s face as he slept.

He had to be in his mid-twenties, if Jimmy was to hazard a guess. He could have been older and just baby-faced. Maybe he could ask him at some point. His freckles were quite dense on his cheeks and nose, and a little less everywhere else. He was still covered in them, though. It had to be from the hot desert sun, during the times he’d spent travelling between posts and going on research expeditions.

His eyebrows were as wheat-pale as his hair was, and his hair fell over his face in a few places now that he was asleep. The way it landed on his soft, full cheeks made Jimmy want to reach out and touch.

“Mmmh, Jimmy?”

Nick immediately reacted to the contact of the bounty hunter’s fingertips caressing his cheek. He wasn’t as deep in his sleep as Jimmy had thought.

“Yeah, Nick?”

He didn’t say anything else, just letting Jimmy’s hand rest on his cheek. Then he reached out to touch Jimmy back.

His hand was cautious and delicate in its movements as he rubbed a thumb over the patches of scar tissue. Jimmy sighed at the intimacy of his touch. Taking this as a signal to go further he allowed his hand to reach lower so that he was able to pet his neck as well.

“You’re very pretty, Jimmy.”

Jimmy outright moaned as the hand made its way down his Adam’s apple, all the way to his collarbone.

“Your body feels really nice, you know.”

His voice was like honey, pouring all over his body and into his mind with every muttered word of praise. Nick was only small but he had such power over him right now. He didn’t mind that one bit. Nick thought he was beautiful. He didn’t think he was scary or broken. It was so weird and nonsensical but it drove him crazy with emotions he could barely comprehend. It seemed he was no genius even when it came to understanding himself.

“Jimmy you are gorgeous.” Nick purred as he petted the older man’s untamed hair. “Jimmy I can’t get enough of you. You’re so good to me. You don’t know me that well yet but you’re so good to me.”

It was nothing more than a stream of drunk musings but it was more than enough. It didn’t need to be poetry to cut deep. Jimmy whimpered and shifted a little closer so that he could lean his head into his touch.

“Jimmy. Jimmy I like you a lot. Jimmy you’re a goddamn angel.” Nick was stroking his skin again, tracing the scars and savouring the textures his body had to offer.

Every time he said his name Jimmy felt tears coming, waiting to burst out of him. Then they did.

He wasn’t sobbing but tears were starting to stream from his eyes and he just lay there while Nick explored the areas that he could reach. He didn’t dare try to shift or take off his undershirt to reach more of him, though. He figured that in the vulnerable state he was in Jimmy might not appreciate it.

“Nick, stop it.”

His hand retreated abruptly as he wandered what if he’d upset him somehow.

“Stop being so damn kind to me.”

He sighed, half in relief that Jimmy wasn’t mad for any reason but half in concern for his mind. How long had he been alone? What kinds of thoughts were buzzing around in that wild head of his?

“Why, Jimmy? Am I hurting you?”

He awkwardly muttered a “no” and let his own hand rest on Nick’s shoulder. His touch was timid as if he was scared he would crush him if he tried to grip his delicate skin.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jimmy couldn’t say anything; only shake his head and hold his tears back as much as possible. It was futile since they were already running onto his pillow.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to say anything.”

A weak “thank you” left Jimmy and he started to settle down a little. He sniffed a few times as his tears gradually stopped flowing and Nick cooed to him. A timid hand in his hair grounded him as he found his breathing steadying again.

“Jimmy?”

“I’m okay. Just not handling all these feelings so well.”

He reached out to hold Nick’s wrist, observing how small his hand seemed in comparison to his own. He planted a little kiss in his palm and watched his mouth twitch in response. Titanic was beautiful.

“You’re the one who’s pretty, you know. I’m all beat up and worn out.”

Pressing his thumb to Jimmy’s lips, Nick interrupted. “Not at all. You’re not worn out because of what happened to you. I promise, you’re not any less of a person than you were.”

“You’re gonna make me cry again, you know that?”

He fell quiet again, looking to somehow change the subject. Easing Jimmy’s nerves wasn’t so easy when they were both still coming down from a drinking session.

“I wish you could see yourself like I can.” He braved moving in a bit closer, eyes fixed on Jimmy’s face for any signs of discomfort. “It’s okay though. You’re all dragged down with trauma. It’s normal.”

Nick kissed his cheek. It was barely a kiss at all – more of a brush of lips against his skin. It didn’t make the contact any less intense, though. How long had it been since he was able to feel something like this?

“I’ll help you any way I can. I owe you a lot.” Nick mumbled in his ear as he kissed him a few more times. “Will you let me help you?”

Jimmy froze for a moment before eventually working up the courage to speak again.

“I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

“Will you let me?”

There was another moment of reluctance.

“I want to kill Cook-Cook. I don’t know if that’s something you want to help me with, though.”

“I’ll help you.”

Jimmy frowned. “You could get yourself killed, Nick.”

“I know.”

He stared at the younger man in disbelief. Nick broke eye contact and shifted under the covers.

“Look, Jimmy… I know you’re trying to be a good person but I’m no china doll. Sure I’m not an experienced killer but I don’t need to be sheltered away from the world. There are ways I can help you and I don’t want you to go alone.”

Jimmy had a bad feeling about this. He’d gotten one pretty companion killed already and he couldn’t help but imagine the worst possible outcomes. Titanic was small and not in any way built for the wasteland. He wanted to tuck him away and shield him from harm, but he knew now that it wouldn’t make Nick happy. He didn’t want to be seen as weak.

“Goodnight, Nick.”

“Night Jimmy.”

Jimmy had a really, really bad feeling about this. He held onto it for a few minutes until exhaustion eventually crept up on him.


	11. Are you irrelevant? You've fallen to pieces.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is: damn Nick you are actually capable. Reluctantly capable, but capable.

The morning was cruel to Jimmy. Not as cruel as they had consistently been for the past few weeks but cruel nonetheless - perhaps even worse when he rolled over to find himself alone.

Nick had left. Maybe he’d scared him off with all his issues and the poor guy was just being polite that night. Maybe he said all those nice things just so Jimmy would shut up and go to sleep.

He’d been wrong, though. He was normally wrong about this stuff. Nick was with Francine of all people, shooting bottles outside. By the looks of things he was pretty good at it. Jimmy went to greet him but he was interrupted by Francine’s wide grin and a childish little laugh from her to accompany it.

“Why’s every guy you bring round here such a good shot? You got a type?”

He slapped her playfully on the shoulder and watched Nick line up a shot, blowing the top half of a bottle to pieces and sending the other half flying as he landed a 45 round dead on centre. When he’d registered what Francine said he turned to face Jimmy.

“You alright, Jim? Tired?”

Jimmy had no answer for him besides a groan of discomfort. His head was aching and his belly had that tell-tale pain you get when your liver’s angry with you. His mouth felt like he’d eaten a handful of sand.

“Well, I know a few remedies for hangovers. I am a follower after all.”

__

“I thought you’d skipped out on me.”

Looking up from the coffee he was making for Jimmy, Nick cocked his head.

“Now why would I go and do a thing like that?”

“Well, maybe you don’t really wanna go after Cook-Cook like you said.”

He brought the hot drink over to where Jimmy sat, thanking one of the Kings again for letting him use their coffee machine.

“I meant what I said, Jim. You’re reckless. You can’t do this alone.”

The coffee was inky and bitter, swirling with little bubbles on the surface from where it had been poured. A vague reflection of his face glistened on the surface. He looked chewed up.

“Maybe you’re right… but I’m all scared since last time-“

“If you’re scared, all the more reason to take someone else with you. Who knows, you might not be able to handle seeing him and your nerves might get to you.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Then again, he hadn’t thought of much. It wasn’t really his style to think about things.

“If you’re coming with me, you better promise you’ll let me finish him off.”

Nick laughed nervously. “I’m not exactly itching to kill a person.”

“Sure,” Jimmy lamented, taking a long sip of hot coffee and sighing at the comforting heat of it. “But this guy ain’t a person in any right.”

“Let’s get moving, then.”

-

It would be fine, Jimmy told himself. Of course it would be fine. It had to be.

They had about 12 stimpaks, and even a couple of super stims thanks to Nick. He was a much better shot than Jimmy had anticipated – not as good as Manny but certainly good.

He just had to not fuck it up again. Maybe he’d actually plan better this time.

“Do you have a plan, Jimmy?”

Jimmy grunted. “Was just thinkin’ about that.”

Nick looked a lot less confident all of a sudden.

“We’ll be fine. I know his game now.”

They made their way to the gates, leaving Freeside for what would hopefully not be the last time. A couple of Kings were waiting outside, and Nick waved at them. Their expressions were cold. He gave up.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll fit in around here. Everyone knows I’m not local.”

Jimmy patted his back. “I’m not local either, but they like me. Don’t sweat it.”

“So what’s the plan for Cook-Cook?”

He looked nervous. “Changing the subject pretty quick, huh?”

“I just want to make sure I’m not following you to certain death.”

Jimmy got out a cigarette and a lighter. He wasn’t much of a smoker, but the time called for it. Lighting up and taking a long drag, he started speaking.

“You see the guy relies on his little pals to try and flank you. We got overwhelmed before.”

Nick listened intently as Jimmy soothed his nerves via nicotine.

“So you need a less direct approach?”

“Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

“Stealth, then.”

He stopped. He looked down at the glowing embers on the end of his cigarette, then at Nick. “Now that’s an idea.”

“You much of a spy?”

Jimmy just laughed. Hearing himself laugh was weird. It had been a while since he’d done it. It felt like he was listening to it from a distance.

“Alright, alright. I get it, you’re a confrontational type.”

Jimmy looked down at Nick. “Yeah, confron- whatever. But you?”

“Oh. No. No, no no no.”

“You’re a small guy. You could get some stealth kills in-”

Nick ground his face into his hands. “I’m getting so anxious, please don’t do this.”

“It’s the best way though, right?”

He sighed and opened his eyes, letting his glasses fall back onto his face.

“Yeah. It’s the most effective way to use me.” He frowned. “Hiding has saved my ass before.”

They went quiet for most of the journey. It was a long journey that took a few hours, and Nick proved himself very useful. He shot down a few bloatflies and bark scorpions before Jimmy even saw them coming. His near-sightedness didn’t seem to be a problem. Those glasses of his really helped. Jimmy had heard it was hard to find the right lenses in the wasteland.

There were two fiends settled at a campfire. Jimmy broke the hour-long silence.

“Okay, you see those guys there? They’re fiends.”

Nick scoffed. “I can tell that for myself.”

“Alright, alright. We’re gonna kill ‘em.”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“You take out the chick on the left and I’ll go take out the one on the right.”

With that, Jimmy moved out from behind the burned out car and started to run towards the chem addict. He heard the thunderous sound of Nick firing at the other one and a vicious battle-cry from the man in his range.

The brass knuckles dug into his hands as he clenched his fists tight, going in for a combination of strikes to the man’s head. He reeked of alcohol and jet. His teeth looked crooked and brittle as he opened his mouth in pain. Jimmy slammed a fist between his eyes and he felt the skull crack on impact as the guy fell. He was still moving, clearly in pain.

Jimmy looked up to see the other fiend – the woman – crumple to the ground, her head pummelled with several bullet wounds. He looked down at the squirming man beneath him and put him out of his misery, stamping on his jaw a couple of times until he stopped moving.

“My god, Jimmy.”

He turned to see Nick’s horrified face. That’s right – the only atrocity he’d seen before was hidden under power armour. This wasn’t the same. Nick had seen a person’s body buckle with the force of his own bullets and had seen Jimmy crush some guy’s skull under his boot.

“Sorry about the mess. You’re not used to it.”

Nick looked up at him like a dog would look up the barrel of a shotgun, pleading and weak. The Followers were normally pacifists. Most of them never saw real combat. This kid was a goddamn desk jockey.

“It’s okay. I’ll be alright.”

“You gonna be okay helping me with a hit? Are you sure about it?”

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s middle and pressed his face against the scarf around his neck. There weren’t any words, just a little sob and a few sniffs as he cried gently.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

He pushed away again, wiping at his face with his sleeves and biting back the rest of his tears. His breathing was a little ragged and uneven. Jimmy understood how it felt. First time he had to see somebody die so bloody he’d had a panic attack far worse than this.

“Hey- Come on, Nick. Breathe slow. Slow.”

He coached him, holding his shoulders and making sure he focused on steadying his breathing. It took a few moments for him to get all his dogs barking again.

“Th- thank you.” He spat out, once he was breathing steady.

Jimmy just smiled and petted his hair. He’d never had to look after someone like this before.

“You did a good fuckin’ job, though.”

Nick looked at the woman’s corpse again. “Yeah. She’s looking pretty messy.”

Jimmy was confused. “You’re okay lookin’ at the body now?”

“Sure I am. I saw way worse at the outpost.”

That’s right. He had. Jimmy imagined all kinds of wounded came through the Followers outpost every day. Hell, Nick was probably the one cataloguing all their medical reports.

“Yeah, you’re tougher than you look.” Jimmy was done worrying about him and was back to his usual self. “Maybe you ought to be taking care of me.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jimmy grinned. “Maybe I should get you a rifle, see how much of a whirlwind you really are.”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “Alright, come on Jim.”

“Apparently those .45 pistols are the ones they used to use in Old World crime movies. Maybe if we got you a suit you’d look like one of those sexy detectives.”

Titanic became flustered and insisted that they got moving. Jimmy agreed.


	12. I don't want us to pretend things will make sense ever again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy faces Cook-Cook a second time, but this time he's better prepared.

This time Jimmy wasn’t going to give Cook-Cook the satisfaction.

He and Nick went over their plan in more detail while scoping out the place through their binoculars.

Nick was going to move first. One of the guys standing right outside the central burned-out building looked dazed enough on whatever chems he’d taken. He would need to be pretty quiet and quick to sneak up behind the guy and take him out, but Jimmy would watch carefully from afar and cause distractions if needed to make it all easier.

Once Nick took the guy out, he’d duck under the burned out car nearby. The proceeding chaos would allow Jimmy an opening. If there was one thing Jimmy could do it was cut a man down. Using the car’s carcass as cover, Nick would go for the brahmin.

Jimmy had learned about Cook-Cook’s prized brahmin from Beatrix. Apparently she’d been talking to some of the First Recon types while out drinking with them. Cook-Cook had such a creepy obsession with his favourite brahmin that he would lash out at his own men if anything happened to her.

All Nick had to do was shoot the brahmin. That would get Cook-Cook’s attention. If it was dead, who knew how crazy it would make him? If they were lucky he might even take out the rest of his own men in his rampage.

Nick started moving when a few of the fiends were busy chatting. There was a flutter in Jimmy’s chest as he watched the man move. From this distance Nick’s small stature was more obvious. He was delicate. Even the way he moved was more graceful than anything Jimmy had ever seen. There wasn’t even a need for a distraction, because the man was unbelievably stealthy. It made sense now, that he was able to get the drop on those paladins. It also made sense that he had left the hotel without waking Jimmy – he was a pretty light sleeper most nights, since it was easy to get yourself robbed or even killed out in the wasteland if you weren’t. His steps were effortlessly light, and his ducks and dives were timed excellently. Before he knew it Titanic was already behind the target, his pistol pressed to the guy’s brain stem. Jimmy was impressed.

He pulled the trigger and the guy went down. The shot seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings because it sounded loud as _fuck_ for some reason. Maybe it was all in Jimmy’s head because he was short of breath, light-headed. Nick dove under the burned-out car. Jimmy held his breath and moved. He charged out from his hiding place and lifted his machete to take off the arm of a panicking fiend. Two more came towards him and he screamed, sweeping into their legs. They came down howling in pain and he whipped around. A few plasma blasts flew past his head and he disarmed the woman who fired them by cleaving her arm at the elbow. A bullet split her head open.

Everything was happening at once. He heard a pained, deep wheeze of pain and a loud thud as the Brahmin went down. Then he heard an agonised scream. Then the flamer’s roar. He turned to see Cook-Cook lighting his own men on fire without hesitation, trembling with rage. He hadn’t even put his helmet on.

Jimmy called out to him – howled, almost. The bounty hunter must have been drenched in sweat, and his scars probably made for an intimidating sight. The fiend did a double-take and before he could ready his flamer Nick leapt out from under the car, ducking again behind a crumbled wall and taking aim.

Cook-Cook’s hand erupted into a crimson torrent as the bullet tore through his fingers. He couldn’t maintain his grip with one hand and the flamethrower dropped to the ground. This was the opening he needed. As the man grabbed at his gushing wound, he looked up to see Jimmy was already on him and unhooking his machete from its holster.

He came down on him like a storm from the Divide. He hacked away at his chest and arms like time was standing still. There was an open-mouthed expression on his face like he was screaming but Jimmy couldn’t hear it. Jimmy couldn’t hear anything. He hacked at the top of his head until his jaw went slack. He continued until the rest of him followed suit. Then he kept going a little while longer.

A feather-light touch to his nape chilled him to his core. His body, burning hot, was dowsed in the feeling of those soft fingers on his neck.

“Jimmy?” It was a cautious sound, when he said his name.

Jimmy hadn’t realised how much his hands were shaking until he looked down and watched his blade fall from his faltering grip. Nick cleared his throat tried speaking again, a little more assertively this time.

“Jimmy?”

He turned his head up to look at the man, his freckles bright under the sweltering sun. Nick was radiant in the afterglow of the kill. Smearings of blood decorated his shirt and his lips hung slightly open as his breathing was still slightly ragged. His pupils were large and his brow leaned into a look of genuine concern.

“You’re not hurt?”

Unable to speak just yet as his chest felt tight as a fist, Jimmy nodded and looked back down at the messy carcass of Cook-Cook.

His face was mostly intact, but a large gash was embedded in his forehead. His neck and shoulders were thoroughly demolished. There was one thing left to do.

“Jimmy, what are you-“

“Well, if I forget the head I can’t prove we killed him.” Jimmy managed, deadpan in his delivery.

He sliced through what was left of the man’s neck and eventually tore the head off with a gruesome crack of bone. Nick clenched his eyes shut and looked like he was actively trying not to be sick, nose wrinkled in disgust at the sheer sound it made.

“Right. I almost forgot.” He muttered meekly, waiting until Jimmy had wrapped and packed the head before he fully opened his eyes again. He swallowed hard.

Back on his feet, Jimmy looked down at Titanic. He wanted to say something, Jimmy could tell. It was like his words were waiting to spill out but he didn’t know what order to say them in. He wandered if Nick was burning inside the way he was. It was a different burn this time. Not a painful assault to the skin but a roasting heat from within.

The silence almost as unbearable as the thrumming emotions under his skin, Jimmy gathered him up in his arms and kissed him. It was too easy. The heat inside him must have been reaching into Nick’s body because he melted in his arms and against his body. It was as if there was no limit to how close they could be, even with layers of clothing between them. Nick had seemingly forgotten how to breathe until Jimmy pulled their lips apart and he took a huge gasp of air, his face blood-red as the stained collar of his shirt.

“We’ve got a bounty to claim.”

All the follower could manage in return was a dizzy nod.


	13. We'll make our night. We'll make tonight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second encounter with Cook-Cook.  
> Jimmy gets exactly what he needed.

This time Jimmy wasn’t going to give Cook-Cook the satisfaction.

He and Nick went over their plan in more detail while scoping out the place through their binoculars.

Nick was going to move first. One of the guys standing right outside the central burned-out building looked dazed enough on whatever chems he’d taken. He would need to be pretty quiet and quick to sneak up behind the guy and take him out, but Jimmy would watch carefully from afar and cause distractions if needed to make it all easier.

Once Nick took the guy out, he’d duck under the burned out car nearby. The proceeding chaos would allow Jimmy an opening. If there was one thing Jimmy could do it was cut a man down. Using the car’s carcass as cover, Nick would go for the brahmin.

Jimmy had learned about Cook-Cook’s prized brahmin from Beatrix. Apparently she’d been talking to some of the First Recon types while out drinking with them. Cook-Cook had such a creepy obsession with his favourite brahmin that he would lash out at his own men if anything happened to her.

All Nick had to do was shoot the brahmin. That would get Cook-Cook’s attention. If it was dead, who knew how crazy it would make him? If they were lucky he might even take out the rest of his own men in his rampage.

Nick started moving when a few of the fiends were busy chatting. There was a flutter in Jimmy’s chest as he watched the man move. From this distance Nick’s small stature was more obvious. He was delicate. Even the way he moved was more graceful than anything Jimmy had ever seen. There wasn’t even a need for a distraction, because the man was unbelievably stealthy. It made sense now, that he was able to get the drop on those paladins. It also made sense that he had left the hotel without waking Jimmy – he was a pretty light sleeper most nights, since it was easy to get yourself robbed or even killed out in the wasteland if you weren’t. His steps were effortlessly light, and his ducks and dives were timed excellently. Before he knew it Titanic was already behind the target, his pistol pressed to the guy’s brain stem. Jimmy was impressed.

He pulled the trigger and the guy went down. The shot seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings because it sounded loud as _fuck_ for some reason. Maybe it was all in Jimmy’s head because he was short of breath, light-headed. Nick dove under the burned-out car. Jimmy held his breath and moved. He charged out from his hiding place and lifted his machete to take off the arm of a panicking fiend. Two more came towards him and he screamed, sweeping into their legs. They came down howling in pain and he whipped around. A few plasma blasts flew past his head and he disarmed the woman who fired them by cleaving her arm at the elbow. A bullet split her head open.

Everything was happening at once. He heard a pained, deep wheeze of pain and a loud thud as the Brahmin went down. Then he heard an agonised scream. Then the flamer’s roar. He turned to see Cook-Cook lighting his own men on fire without hesitation, trembling with rage. He hadn’t even put his helmet on.

Jimmy called out to him – howled, almost. The bounty hunter must have been drenched in sweat, and his scars probably made for an intimidating sight. The fiend did a double-take and before he could ready his flamer Nick leapt out from under the car, ducking again behind a crumbled wall and taking aim.

Cook-Cook’s hand erupted into a crimson torrent as the bullet tore through his fingers. He couldn’t maintain his grip with one hand and the flamethrower dropped to the ground. This was the opening he needed. As the man grabbed at his gushing wound, he looked up to see Jimmy was already on him and unhooking his machete from its holster.

He came down on him like a storm from the Divide. He hacked away at his chest and arms like time was standing still. There was an open-mouthed expression on his face like he was screaming but Jimmy couldn’t hear it. Jimmy couldn’t hear anything. He hacked at the top of his head until his jaw went slack. He continued until the rest of him followed suit. Then he kept going a little while longer.

A feather-light touch to his nape chilled him to his core. His body, burning hot, was dowsed in the feeling of those soft fingers on his neck.

“Jimmy?” It was a cautious sound, when he said his name.

Jimmy hadn’t realised how much his hands were shaking until he looked down and watched his blade fall from his faltering grip. Nick cleared his throat tried speaking again, a little more assertively this time.

“Jimmy?”

He turned his head up to look at the man, his freckles bright under the sweltering sun. Nick was radiant in the afterglow of the kill. Smearings of blood decorated his shirt and his lips hung slightly open as his breathing was still slightly ragged. His pupils were large and his brow leaned into a look of genuine concern.

“You’re not hurt?”

Unable to speak just yet as his chest felt tight as a fist, Jimmy nodded and looked back down at the messy carcass of Cook-Cook.

His face was mostly intact, but a large gash was embedded in his forehead. His neck and shoulders were thoroughly demolished. There was one thing left to do.

“Jimmy, what are you-“

“Well, if I forget the head I can’t prove we killed him.” Jimmy managed, deadpan in his delivery.

He sliced through what was left of the man’s neck and eventually tore the head off with a gruesome crack of bone. Nick clenched his eyes shut and looked like he was actively trying not to be sick, nose wrinkled in disgust at the sheer sound it made.

“Right. I almost forgot.” He muttered meekly, waiting until Jimmy had wrapped and packed the head before he fully opened his eyes again. He swallowed hard.

Back on his feet, Jimmy looked down at Titanic. He wanted to say something, Jimmy could tell. It was like his words were waiting to spill out but he didn’t know what order to say them in. He wandered if Nick was burning inside the way he was. It was a different burn this time. Not a painful assault to the skin but a roasting heat from within.

The silence almost as unbearable as the thrumming emotions under his skin, Jimmy gathered him up in his arms and kissed him. It was too easy. The heat inside him must have been reaching into Nick’s body because he melted in his arms and against his body. It was as if there was no limit to how close they could be, even with layers of clothing between them. Nick had seemingly forgotten how to breathe until Jimmy pulled their lips apart and he took a huge gasp of air, his face blood-red as the stained collar of his shirt.

“We’ve got a bounty to claim.”

All the follower could manage in return was a dizzy nod.


End file.
